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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE OVERTURE 



THE OVERTURE 

BY JOSEPH RUSSELL TAYLOR 




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BOSTON AND NEW YORK : HOUGHTON 
MIFFLIN AND COMPANY : MDCCCCIII 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Received 

SEP 4 1903 

Copyright Entry 

cuss €L, XXe. Ne 

COPY B. 






COPYRIGHT 1903 BY JOSEPH RUSSELL TAYLOR 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



'published September IQ03 



f e c I' 
C t C t; t "^l 



TO MY WIFE 






CONTENTS 



Page 



Penelope in Love 



II 



Returned to Earth 

The Bachelor in the Wood 

Hung in the Shining North 

At the Voice of a Bird 

Trill and Twitter . 

Bobolinks after Sunset 

Blow Softly^ Thrush 

Birds of Passage 

Purple Fringed Orchid . 

The Ravens 

Whither Away 



The Ferns 

Heigho^ Arcady ! . 

The Sea-Gull Inland . 

Lullaby 

Sweet Adventure 

The Way to Fairyland 



III 



IV 



19 

21 

22 

23 

24 

25 
26 

27 
28 

30 
32 

37 

47 
48 

49 
50 
52 



viu CONTENTS 

The Summer Seemed Immortal 

Not only through Old Legend . 

Birds of Passage 

Palinode of the Robins 

When the Butterfly Puts Out to Sea 

The Asters .... 



54 
55 

56 

57 

59 
61 



The Posing of Vivette 



65 



VI 



Arcades Ambo .... 


75 


Baccare Frontem Cingite 


. . 76 


Magno nunc Ore Sonandum 


77 


Dea Certe .... 


. . 78 


Si Credere Dignum est . 


79 


Tibi Deserit Hesperus 


. 80 


Veteres Ineunt Proscania 


81 


Floribus Austrum 


. 82 


Maioresque Cadunt Umbra 


83 


Ultima Thule .... 


. . 84 


Dis Aliter Visum .... 


85 


VII 




Breath on the Oat 


. 8q 



For permission to reprmt, thanks are hereby returned to the Editors 
of The Atlantic Monthly, Scribner*s Magazine, The Century Magazine, 
and Harper's Magazine. 



PENELOPE IN LOVE 



Penelope in Love 

"XT 7HAT most I relished in Penelope 

^ ^ Was her cool comradeship, most like a boy's, 
Careless and uncoquetting : therefore now, 
Though I was vexed to leave the bowling rout 
Who jeered at sailing when the rain was sure, 
Now I was glad of sober liberty, 
Stretched into freedom with my bathing-suit, 
Lighted adventure with my pipe, and came, 
A novice for my second sailing lesson, 
Heart-free and empty of thought down to the dock, 
Where under her idly flapping sail, herself 
The skipper, and the best upon the lake. 
Pen in her bathing-suit awaited me. 

No word we said. I saw her brows were down. 
And knowing she thought to vent a stormy mood 
On wind and water and on me her crew. 
Laughed, and cast ofF, and leaped beneath the boom. 
And the waves plunging met us, and the shore 
Widened receding : up into the wind 
We were beating, out and down the lake away. 
Great-winged and dogged with voices : till beyond 
The Island's spouting rocks we came about. 



4 PENELOPE IN LOVE 

And shifting to the weather-rail I peered 

Under the sail to watch the purple come, 

And saw the glint of silver swallow-breasts 

Pass on the deep-breathed pallor. " Rain ! " I said : 

" The swallows hug the water : not a boat 

On all the lake : the west blows up for storm." 

And " Welcome, storm ! " she said, and " Shipwreck, 

hail! 
Wager, you cannot make us swim ashore ! 
A tame conclusion." " Tame ! " I said, " a mile ! 
To swim for life is not to swim for sport. 
You carry Caesar and his fortunes, boy." 

" The days pass by like children," she returned, 

" Forever playing. My summer will soon be done, 

And then — Society ! Pink teas and whist, 

Dances and clubs, and effort without end 

To do what things are nothing when well done : 

Exhibit, chattering gowns ! Small heart have I 

To strive in that gay market. Woman's end 

Is to be woman : well ! and it may be wise 

To keep performing, be a vaudeville, I ! 

And catch a husband. O the noble chase ! 

To be a bait unto his sense, a trap 

Unto his fancy, lure him and evade. 

And last by running away run to his arms ! 

I, if I love, I have heart to say I love." 



PENELOPE IN LOVE 



C4 



Byronics, you ! " I laughed ; " I know your mood, 
I too by trivial ways seek place and home. 
I fain would fall in love ; why then, I take 
Elizabeth to the opera ; lo, I send 
Flowers to Letitia. Then I play at work, 
I work at play, I lay me down and sleep. 
Forget, remember, rise to do the same. 
Advise me. Pen ! You are more boy than girl ; 
You look a boy indeed ; I half forget . . . 
You are woman too. How shall I find my heart ? 
How lose it ? by endeavoring ? — Letty ? — 
Bess? — " 

" Oh, let them do the wooing ! " So fierce her voice, 
I looked to see her braced to the tight sheet ; 
We heeled, and swerving raced into the wind. 
" The woman is your only wooer ! " she cried ; 
" Be page unto their petticoats ; let them 
With all their arts of war win the event. 
I hate it all," she moaned ; " but look at us. 
See how we are tied : a man is free, and roves 
Wide as a butterfly ; a woman waits 
Still as a flower ; and will he find her ? No, 
Unless she is gorgeous, scented, beckoning far, 
Above her sisters. — You will not understand ! 
You think me . . . you will feed me compli- 
ments. . . . 



6 PENELOPE IN LOVE 

I know my charms ! a healthy body, a face 
Not quite inanely pretty, a grain of wit, 
Enough to fill my dance-cards, — compliments! 
To please yourself! Easy it is for you 
To flit from her to her ; but what of them ? 
Percy, if once a girl spoke out her heart 
In honest earnest, asking for your love, — 
Vast man's prerogative ! — you would in turn 
Assume the girl, be frightened, rage at her 
As stripped of modesty, unsexed, a plague ! '* 

Showered with spray, perched on the weather-rail, 
While now the water flashed along the lee 
Like comets thundering, curiously I looked 
Upon my comrade, such a bitter fire 
Burned in her voice. She looked a boy no more. 
Although her bare brown arms, her straight trim 

legs. 
Were like a lad's, and like a lad's her pose, 
Braced to the tiller and the sheet that pulled 
Like a wild horse upon the rein ; the boat. 
Cradled in white-caps, full of voices, danced 
Drunken and swift and like a bacchanal 
Through swinging crash on crash; and like was 

she. 
The charioteer of riot. I knew her not ; 
So round her knees her skirt, so round her face 



PENELOPE IN LOVE 7 

Her hair, rebelled ; our fellowship pretense — 

" By heaven, Pen ! " I cried, " I thought of you 

But as a finer boy, a heart of man 

Touched with a deeper sympathy. But now, — 

Oh, be my comrade, and a boy again." 

" I hate that too ! '^ she wailed. Sweet was the 

shame 
I took to breast. " Penelope," I said, 
" If they who seek of men have other service, 
You know the hearts of men as they cannot ; 
You are a miracle, a companion true. 
Trusted by men as they trust only men, 
Who yet are woman. Is no honor in that ? " 

The weather darkened, but her face grew clear. 
" There, lad," she smiled, " I have said all my say. 
We will talk no more of me. Am I your friend, 
Good as a man ? And yet a woman too. 
And you desire instruction in true love, — 
Cast me for understudy, and rehearse ! " 

Whether the darkening weather, and the thrill 
With which we shook off death from staggering 

flanks. 
Or this new she^ was dangerous wooing indeed, 
A boy of opulent bosom, caught me away, 
I know not, but an unknown heart-beat knew. 



8 PENELOPE IN LOVE 

" You give me license perilous," I sighed ; 

" Was ever boy so crowned with flowerlike hair, 

So wrought of dropping curves ? Was ever girl 

Opened unto a man so naked arms, 

So stripped and sleek, what velvet to a cheek ! 

— Folly ; I know not whither I go ; 't is you 

Steering the boat ! And laugh your worst on me, 

Do you know you have a most distracting leg ? "' 

And " Pretty ! " laughed the girl ; " 't would win 

indeed 
Dozens of Betty. I pronounce it sick. 
And stolen from old sonnets, old and stale. 
Percy, my amateur, try, try again ! " 

But I was vexed, for hot had been her blush. 
And what I said not what I meant to say. 
" What if I do not play ? " I frowned, " or what 
If in the playing I cannot shake from me 
The thought you may not listen all in play ? 
It takes few words to wreck the past ; if now 
I say I love you, can your laugh unsay it ? 
And who began this sport ? Who sails the boat 
So far from where we came about, heart-free. 
Good comrades ? Why, it seems a long ago. 
If I am easy tempting, yours the fault." 
And " Fine ! " she laughed ; " 't would carry by 
assault 



PENELOPE IN LOVE 9 

A league of Letties. I decree it this, 

A selfish roaring ; so the sucking dove 

Roars, Percy \ I am frightened ; roar no more ! " 

" No more," I said, ashamed beneath her eyes. 
" You have bewitched me. Pen ; I meant it all, 
And said not what I meant ; and I confess 
My ignorant immaturity of love. 
Who at a word am saying this to you. 
You, if you love, you have heart to say you love ; 
Such was your word ; but if you do not love, 
But if you love love only, what word then ? " 

Sober was she. " True love " — so quiet a voice ! — 

'' Is first equality, then faith, and then 

Unselfishness ; and these in one desire. 

If time would take the blindfold from my eyes, 

Percy, and if 't were he, or he, or — you. 

Why, I should say to you without a blush, 

I am your equal, fit to mate with you. 

And I have faith in you and in myself. 

And I would live for you, for you would die. 

And these are one full passion of desire, — 

I had not blushed before, nor yet should here, — 

For you . . . and for — what ... in these empty 

arms " — 
" Oh, hush ! " I trembled, " dear and dreadful, hush ! 



lo PENELOPE IN LOVE 

If I were he you love — the if! the if! 
Why do you say these things to me a fool ? 
Scorn me — I am anguish till you tell me more — 
I am shame struck dumb — ah, say I am not he ! " 

The storm was but a gust ; but up the lake 
Roaring it caught us, till we heeled and bowed 
And falling swerved and like a rocket shot 
Into the wind's teeth ; thunders met the bow 
To spout and fall on us in cataracts ; 
And level with the lee-rail, like a flame 
The foam flashed by ; and set an inch from death. 
But on a wing so swift he could not snatch. 
Glorying and fearing, I was yet aware 
Of higher tempest in my comrade, she 
Whose bare arms yoked the fury to our craft 
And drove the hounds of clamor : her I feared, 
And her next word I feared and I desired. 

" Percy ! " she laughed it, wept it, sang, in one, 
And I that feared and gloried in our flight 
Gloried and feared to take her voice, so wild 
A wing, so wildly abandoned to the wind, — 
" Where drives the boat ? and oh, is it you and I ? 
What god comes running the long-ridged waters, — 

look. 
Are they his feet that break to the flowers of storm 



PENELOPE IN LOVE ii 

Seen only by doomed mariners ? Idly we called, 
Answerer ! Wind that carry the name to me ! 
Blow, but you cannot snatch it out of my breath ! 
Blow, but you blow it deeper adown my blood ! 
Percy, I love you ! " 

Thus far voyaged our craft. 
As in some silence that the thunder holds 
Mute in a bursting heart, I heard her voice ; 
As in some motionless moment's lightning-leap 
From pole to pole, intolerably clear, 
Near as new agony, far as the last lost star, 
I saw her, like one crucified by joy. 
With her four limbs in fierce elation stretched 
Out of a fury of girdling dusk convulsed : 
" Penelope ! '' — who cried so strange and wild ? 
Was it she and I ? — I reeled and clutched the 

rail — 
Or was it sentient, mane of hippogrifF? 
Though now the gust had passed, and like a hawk 
On even wing we raced into the surf 
That flashed and crashed on us but could not stay, — 
Clutched, or I should have fallen, crying her name, 
" Penelope ! " 

And now the wind fell off; 
And back into our breasts hovered our hearts ; 



12 PENELOPE IN LOVE 

And the most fearless eyes girl ever had, 

Now they were veiled, flashed, and were veiled 

again. , ** 
" What have I done ? " she gasped. " Water and 

wind, 
What have you done with me ? Oh, not my heart. 
It was the wind ! 'T was play, you knew 't was 

play ! 
I a coward ! " she panted, "la liar ! 
Convention ! — can you see it on these arms ? 
It hangs like chains upon them. . ." Light, more 

light. 
We winged adown the bay ; the flocking green 
Of lily-pads heaved by ; and then she looked 
Straight in my eyes, and dark with maiden blood 
Her face was like the ruin of a star. 
Heart-breaking ; but she could not hide her face. 
And would not turn ; her naked arms steered true. 
Her hair half-fallen covered not her eyes ; 
But thus most proudly ere her proud eyes fell, 
Defiant of her own pathos and the shame 
That burned like sunset through her, thus she spoke : 
" Percy, I cannot weep or hide my face. 
Though now for either I would give my life. 
And give my life to unsay what I have said. 
Not for a woman's shame, but for a man's : 
Will you forgive, forget ? " 



PENELOPE IN LOVE 13 

The languid sheet 
Alone, it seemed, kept her erect who spoke ; 
Into the sheltered bay of ruffled lilies 
Our sail was loitering ; sunlight touched her hair ; 
For all the skies were broken, and we stole 
Still as a dove beneath the wood, and hung 
Idling among the lilies ; till at last. 
Now curtained from the sigh within the pines, 
And all the boat turned sighing in lily-leaves. 
We paused, we stopped, and the sail trembled faint. 
I was aware of this, and saw but her. 
Her eyes were fallen, the wind died with her voice. 
Taking an oar, I brought the boat about ; 
Crossed, and the rope took from her falling hand : 
" You know I am no sailor," was my word, 
" But now the wind is weathered, let me sail." 
She took my place, we caught the wind away; 
And till my voice a footing like the sun 
Upon his glittering acres well could keep 
Steady in peril, I dared not look at her. 

" One fear alone is mine," — to look was fire, — 
'^ That you will not believe me ; that alone. 
Why, I could laugh for very confidence. 
One walked the waters ; and were not our hearts 
Burning within us ? Two were on the deep ; 
They are gone ; 't is you and I. What is this 
change ? 



14 PENELOPE IN LOVE 

They say it comes to women so ; to me ! 
Doubt-killer, self-creator, love, to me ! 
I know not why I talk ; there is no need. 
Once, oh, wonder ! we heard the unceasing voice 
That heaven would stoop and lay within your 
breast " — 

" Ah, hush ! " she breathed ; she had given me level 

eyes 
Unfluttered, though her lashes sparkled alight 
With new-sprung tears, alight within the dusk 
Of furious blushing deeper than a rose. 
The sunlight on her hair, it seemed of her ; 
For all the heavens were broken, and the wind 
Airily merrily took us, and the sun 
Shone ; till a light compression touched her lips 
And moulded to new sumptuous ravishment 
Her throat, her chin ; and she was laughing soft. 
" Most noble, grave, and reverend, my lord 
Percy ! '* her very hands a mock of awe 
She dimpled, '' in your solemn bathing-suit ! 
Oh, be my comrade and a boy again ! 
Or no, let me admire how quaint and sweet 
Wisdom in his array ; and wisdom, blush ! 
Do you know you have a most contenting leg ? 
Revenge is sweet, my Percy ; to forgive. 
Sweet ; and to kiss and be friends, the end of all." 



PENELOPE IN LOVE 15 

She leaned with wicked eyes and innocent lips, 
And " Kiss me, Percy ! " fluted. For my hands, 
Steering the boat, my foolish hands were tied. 
My foolish ignorant hands that knew no more. 
" Must I ask twice ? " she mourned, with such a 

glance, — 
" The rope is caught ! " I startled at the mast, 
" Come quick and help ! " She did not stir, but took 
New luxuries of tempting mirth : and " Dear, 
Do you command me ? " laughed. " Browbeat ! 

compel ! " 
I swore. And by the shining sail she stood 
Demure, assumed the child, smoothed down her 

skirt. 
Feigning to hide her dapper-stockinged knees. 
Coy drollery, half earnest and all jest ; 
For though she feigned, delicious awkwardness 
Was conscious through and through her. " Had you 

asked first,'' 
She sighed, " it would be easier to obey." 
And down she sat. " Throw me a kiss," she 

laughed ; 
And then, " Three times ! " she pouted. In to land 
I thought to steer. How far the land ! The wind 
Fainted. How faint the wind ! I dropped the sheet. 



II 



RETURNED TO EARTH 19 



Returned to Earth 

"O ETURNED to earth on human feet 
"^ ^ The young gods passed me in the street, 
Passed, and as strangers passed me by : 
Who knew them half so well as I ? 

'T was spring, but not at me she glanced. 

A street piano, and two that danced ; 

Pretty as pigeons on the pave 

They danced : one tiptoe, flushing, grave, 

A child ; one tall as love, a girl. 

I saw her wide-bloomed skirt unfurl 

A fresh young ankle ; I saw her hair 

Gleam to the twilight sweet and bare ; 

Saw, and saw through that fond disguise 

With those my death-enlightened eyes, 

The child as tall as the maiden's heart. 

And she that stooped with conscious art. 

The gay tired music, the robins above 

Wild in the twilight, wild with love. 

So up dim gleaming street by street 

The golden hearts of thunder beat ; 

And the young delight, the dream I dreamed, 

The twilight unreturning, seemed 



20 RETURNED TO EARTH 

Life's end, and haunted at the last 
With the weary joy of all its past. 

My love lay dying ; alone went I ; 
Like death, like death, I passed them by ; 
And wondered, finding my heart bless 
That frail immortal happiness. 



THE BACHELOR IN THE WOOD 21 



The Bachelor in the Wood 

TI>EAUTY I trod, who footed in the wood 
-*^ A midnight galaxy of violets, 
A milky way of flushed spring-beauties, starred 
With pleiads of all-golden adder-tongue, — 
How could that blossomed fire be else than this. 
The height of a woman's ankle in the wood ? 

Passion I breathed, who found all air a harp 

To the mad brown-thrushes quivering and quick, 

The spaces in that daring minstrelsy 

Thronged with enkindling echoes, sparrow and 

wren, — 
How could that warbled fire be else than this. 
The height of a woman's lips within the wood ? 

I trod the stars, I breathed the flame ; but love, 
O April, can I find it here alone ? 
Those send the bees to find their sister-flowers. 
These sing unto their mates ; but love, my love ? 
Is it where the hawk hangs on the moving cloud. 
The height of a woman's heart above the wood ? 



22 HUNG IN THE SHINING NORTH 



Hung in the Shining North 

T TUNG in the shining north, light showers, 

■*•-■■ As over a breast of silks and flowers 

Like dusky unbound hair. 

Trail weeping ; but the west is dark. 

And the rain-crow's tripping voice, oh, hark ! 

Treads down the echoing air ; 

Hark, how the bobolinks ripple and bubble ! 

Out of the orchard what rapture of robins ! 

And look, the brown-thrush up and facing the storm 

With a shaken jubilant splendor and storm of song 

And more than the heart can bear ! 

O look and listen ! and wild eyes, glisten. 

And flash me thunder to dare ! 

O look and hearken ! and wild eyes, darken ! 

Else I shall enter there ! 



AT THE VOICE OF A BIRD 23 



At the Voice of a Bird 

"IT TAS it memory so rich ? The dogwood's snow 
^ ^ Beckoned ; and following with enchanted 
feet 
In columbine-bells and violets dewy-sweet 
I walked into the springs of long ago. 
No memory, when the wood that could not know 
Welled with the voices as of stars in dance, 
Belled with the golden sorrow-and-jubilance 
Of flutes that our wood-thrushes alone could blow. 
So, they shall rise up at the voice of a bird. 
The buried years, the immemorial years ; 
All hope that is in memory long deferred 
Flooded my heart and eyes with happy tears ; 
The golden-throated thrushes in the May ! 
Spring, the sweet spring, and my love far away ! 



24 TRILL AND TWITTER 



Trill and Twitter 

'THRILL and twitter and leaves in a glitter with 

-*- a wind like wine blown through, 
All the grove is afire with love on a wind all music 

and dew, 
All the wood goes into my blood, and the wind 

blows hither from you. 

Hither, sweet with your coming feet, out of the 

May's own blue, 
Hither, winging to kindle the singing of the merry 

maddening crew. 
Blows the west as out of your breast, hither and 

brings me you. 

Song and sparkle and dance and darkle of a world 

all wonderful-new. 
Storm and splendor and wood-flutes tender, back to 

her bosom and woo. 
Crying — I and love we are here in the grove and 

waiting for love and you ! 



BOBOLINKS AFTER SUNSET 25 



Bobolinks after Sunset 

WAIT, I follow ! After the wasted day, 
It is the bobolinks in twilight gray 
Withdrawing, and now immortally far away. 
Following the sunset. Day has passed me by. 

I follow, wait ! After the wasted year, — 
They piped, I danced not, wept, I had no tear, 
Now what a heartbreak to remember ! — hear 
My lost bobolinks. Spring had passed me by. 

Oh, wait, I follow ! They hold the merry sun 
Strange in the twilight, dying one by one, 
After the waste of life I rise, I run. 
Catching his skirts. . . . But love has passed me 
by. 



26 BLOW SOFTLY, THRUSH 



Blow Softly, Thrush 

TDLOW softly, thrush, upon the hush 

■^^ That makes the least leaf loud. 

Blow, wild of heart, remote, apart 

From all the vocal crowd. 

Apart, remote, a spirit note 

That dances meltingly afloat. 

Blow faintly, thrush! 

And build the green-hid waterfall 

I hated for its beauty, and all 

The unloved vernal rapture and flush, 

The old forgotten lonely time, 

Delicate thrush! 

Spring 's at the prime, the world 's in chime, 

And my love is listening nearly. 

Oh, lightly blow the ancient woe, 

Flute of the wood, blow clearly! 

Blow, she is here, and the world all dear, 

Melting flute of the hush. 

Old sorrow estranged, enriched, sea-changed. 

Breathe it, veery thrush! 



BIRDS OF PASSAGE 27 



Birds of Passage 

TVTORTH on the wind with pipes that fajntly 

-^ ^ ring 

The twinkling snowbirds blow; fox-sparrows gay 

Set down their load of music for a day 

Only, and follow on the burning wing; 

The faltering silver dream the whitethroats bring 

Is gone ere leaves are large; they die away, 

The rosebreast's flutes; and passing, even in May, 

The silent hermit holds his heart from spring. 

Rich is my singing June, and lordlier song 

The meadows and the riverwoods prolong; 

Yet song is sweetest when the song has died ; 

For I am fashioned of so fragile clay 

As most to love the things that pass away. 

Though well I love the truer that abide. 



28 PURPLE FRINGED ORCHID 



Purple Fringed Orchid 

i^RCHID, my orchid, if I make a dell 

^-^ Of mossy words, wood-mirrors of dark speech. 

And with a purple " Love! " alone alight, 

A poem all of gloaming monody 

That leads through glimmering leafage of grave 

thought 
Unto one rosy blossom in the dusk; 
My orchid, if I shut you in my heart 
Nor rob the hemlock twilight of its star 
That none but lovers find, and that finds none 
But lovers, since the time and long before 
The Cherokee's foot upon the mossy marge 
Passed you contemptuous, as the mountaineer 
Now passing idly notes and nothing heeds ; 
My orchid, if I give your fragrance voice 
Strange as the sphinx's riddle, how your flower 
Is human and inhuman, part of man 
And infinitely apart from man, who plucks 
But cannot take your beauty when he goes 
Who brought your beauty with him when he 

came; 
O orchid, purple cloud of winged stars, 
O purple crown and sweetness of the dark, 



PURPLE FRINGED ORCHID 29 

Spirit, inhabit this the dust of speech 

And rise up living at its somber heart 

To end my monody with a rosy " Love ! " 

It is all made of grace and fantasy, 
All made of fragrance and of purple air ; 
Follow the moth, not follow the wild bee ; 
Find it who can, and how he finds beware. 



30 THE RAVENS 



The Ravens 

^ I ^OO heavy seemed the fragrance of the fern, 

■^ Too lightly along the path from turn to turn 
The rosebreast warbled Eden; and too sweet 
The azalea's blossomed bowers allured my feet, 
That pranked the green with a wild fire grown 

tame, 
Sunset undying, immortal autumn-flame. 
Fire of all seasons making mock of time. 
Flame-colored, the azalea at the prime. 
Beauty, that in the sun before the storm 
Smiled from the mountains, smiled too rich and 

warm; 
Harsh is the face of truth, I thought, and stern; 
Release me, scented sorcery of the fern ! 
A little life, and masked with sleepy flowers. 

And the storm rose, and changed the darkening 

bowers. 
Cloud shade and wind and thunder fell on me; 
I took the rain like waking, I was free 
Of those enchanting hands, awake, aware, 
Exulting. Death was out and on the air; 
And even in her flowers life abode, 



THE RAVENS 31 

Knowing her mate, his passing, he that rode 
High on the dusk, a great voice with him blown. 
I saw not them indeed, I heard alone 
The croak of passing ravens. Weird it fell. 
And hoarse, and rusty, and like an old great bell 
Tolled, and the dark drew on from height to height. 
Clanged, and the dark seemed greater than the 

light. 
Tolled, and I stood full stature, drew deep breath. 
Tolled, and I thought, I have heart to look on 

death. 
Clanged, and I cried, O bold old godlike death ! 



32 WHITHER AWAY 



Whither Away 



^ ^ Whither away," I said, 
" Into the sunset's glory of gold and passion of 

rose-red ? 
Over the waters changed to wine and into the sky 

we slip. 
But never a fairer shore than this shall find our 

wandering ship. 
Not though by shadowy Arcady we drop the an- 
chor at last. 
And in the dusk our weary sails rattle adown the 

mast. 
Into the dark steals off the bark ; let us stay in our 

bridal June ; 
Whither away should lovers stray from the Island 

of Honeymoon ? " 

" Oh, far away in the dying day, and farther away," 

she cried. 
Ere the glory of gold has faded yet or the passion 

of rose-red died, 
Oh, far away from the happier present visit the 

happy past. 



4C 



WHITHER AWAY 33 

Though never shall our ghostly sails die down the 

shadowy mast ; 
For we will flit by the twilight land and name the 

places fair, 
But set no foot on the shore," she cried, " nor drop 

the anchor there ; 
But under the night with so swift a flight that the 

keel is singing in tune, 
Back, haste back on the starriest track to the 

Island of Honeymoon ! " 



Ill 



THE FERNS 37 



The Ferns 

A BOY'S love is the wind among the fern ; 
■^ -^ And mine was such for Cicely, my first love, 
Cicely, ten years elder, wedded five, 
And my fond fellow within the summer hills. 
Half mother and half sweetheart, all a joy. 
But I was boy alone, and little cared 
Save for the splendid preference of her eyes 
That made my ways romance. Now that my heart 
Has struck deep root in earth, now I am come 
To man's estate, I look back through the years 
And, wondering at myself and her, could weep ; 
And wherefore of all ferns that feather, now 
Not one most disregarded and unfound. 
Cicely ! but is dedicate to you. 

" My lady liege," I cried, " this is the morn 
We are to name the ferns, this is my day 
To bring you to my treasured cave, my rock 
You too will call Diana's altar ; comxC ! " 
She put her letter away, and came with me 
Unsmiling, and the chided memories 
Dislinked their frolic as we crossed the field 
That gave us once to stain each other's lips 



38 THE FERNS 

Wild strawberries ; now bloomed with bergamot, 
A field of the cloth of purple, and its bees 
Hummed to the sun. " Our meadow, smile ! " I 

sighed ; 
" 'T is like your tambour, and your broidering 
Half-finished, — look, through all the clustering 

stars 
Your gold-tipped mullein-needles idly stick." 
Cold was the hand she gave me for the climb, 
And as to strangers our old laughter hushed 
About us ; and I found the low beech-bough, 
And showed the empty nest : " The wings are 

flown," 
I sighed, and " Vireo ! not one warble left 
To thank my lady ? Three white eggs were here ; 
The fourth was dappled, strange, the cowbird's egg ; 
Who from the leaf-hid cup, yet warm of you. 
The pretty bastard took ? " Now all the woods, 
As to the darkness of her eyes, were mute. 
But far in the linking twilights to us came, 
Richest of butterflies, the mourning-cloak, 
Vanessa, velvet violet ringed with flame, 
A pain of loveliness, that hovering sweet 
Had given her knee a garter, her hair a crown, 
But for the sacred dread that him withheld. 
That one wild moment settling to her breast 
Hung like a flower ; she upon her step 



THE FERNS 39 

Poised like a statue, breathless, blushing, stood 
With down-dropped lashes : ^' Cicely ! " I breathed, 
" He knows your mood, he comes to give it wing. 
The mourning-cloak ! " Quick was her glance at 

me. 
Too bright her eyes ; I thrilled to know her tears, 
No more ^ for all she did was beautiful. 

We dipped adown the hollow of ferns in gloom ; 
And gayly them, like ladies to their queen, 
With ceremony I introduced to her. 
My pleasure ran like wind from fern to fern 
That witched with green and grace and quiet the 

dell, 
Each of its kind inimitable grace : 
Pale afterglow of scented fern, that drowsed 
The dusk with fragrance ; crowns of plume on 

plume. 
Cinnamon fern ; silvered with dew, the flames 
Of sensitive fern, the wine-dark Christmas fern. 
Maidenhair, lady fern, they rhymed the green 
With ripple and throb in the dance of shadow and 

sun. 
Magical without flower, the green of love. 
But most I brought her among the maidenhair, 
And where the last thrush twittered and was still 
Without a flute-note, gathered nodding showers 



40 THE FERNS 

To tremble at her belt. " Queen of the fern ! " I 

cried, 
" For whom that courtly worship of veiled heads 
Trembles, and at whose heart, so in the gloom, 
So lightly-sweetly, stands my lady sweet. 
Queen of the fern, so hung of earth on air ! " 
" No queen," she sighed, " is she who crowns 

herself; 
And poor vain beauty, your empire is not great. 
In all whose dewy youth no flower may bud, — 
Oh, for a foxglove bell, a trillium berry ! — 
May bloom and fall, — I hate the flowerless fern. 
Queen of the fern, — well, then, I hate myself. 
Dear lad, forgive me. Bring me to your rock. 
Your altar of old gods." Dear voice ! I smiled. 
Her eyes will laugh full sunlight on me yet ; 
I serve for laughter ; golden is the hire. 

And light of heart I brought her down the glade. 
Eager and hastening ; now 't was she who stopped, 
And all among the brake went gathering 
The early-autumned plumes ; midsummer cool 
The deep and drowsy brake, but here and there 
Was autumn-changed ; my lady would not pass 
One golden feather among the green, but drew. 
Elect of autumn, now elect of her. 
All to her arms. " What gold is this," I said, 



THE FERNS 41 

" Upon my comrade's breast ? May I not share ? " 
" Child," she returned, " you know not what you 

wish. 
But you deserve a merrier mate than I, 
Sad with my husband's letter, and the word 
That my old playmate Mary has been a mother. 
And that the baby's life was just one day. 
The embroider}" will not be finished, lad. 
The needles stick forever. Ah," she moaned, 
" And even death contemptuous of me ! 
— Do not grow up, my dear ! Child's play for us ! 
And am I not still pretty, still a girl ? " 
At last she smiled on me, but wild with tears ; 
And troubled to my heart of hearts, I knew 
Chiefly an exultation in her beauty, 
Her hair flame-shaped and like the sensitive fern, 
The maidenhair at her girdle and in her eyes 
Trembling, the brake turned gold as by her touch, — 
" You are beloved," I answered, " and by such 
As bravely would meet sorrow." " But the cave," 
She cried, " your wildwood altar ! — Heart of sport, 
You think it alms I give ! . . . And I '11 be gay, 
Be foolish as you wish. Now then, your rock." 

The clear delighted water from its glade 

Into a cliff, so thick with polypody 

It seemed a curtain of the shimmering fern. 



42 THE FERNS 

Ran, and deepening all its myriad harps 
Inwoven with echoes underground pursued 
Mysterious caverns ; thither come, to stand 
Beneath that midnight portal, by that stream's 
Undying death, we, drawing the darker air, 
Drenched with the dew and fragrance of the climb. 
Looked back, and saw the sunlight like strange fire. 
All in the midst, and as with music mute 
Scored, and with changed inscriptions, with its 

quaint 
Rosettes and long-rayed stars of walking fern, 
And hung with violet shafts and veils of sun, 
For cold as frost we found that underworld, 
A purple rock stood upright and alone, 
Diana's altar. " Let me play," she said ; 
" Sit still and be the elder." On the rock 
She heaped the early-autumned golden brake, 
And lighted ; and yet cold with morning dew 
It took slow flame, lifted a slender smoke. 
And breathed autumnal fragrance and old dreams. 
And all the while she mingled talk with song ; 
Her voice was merry, but her eyes were not ; 
Her mood I thought the rainbow on the blue. 
And if I guessed at storm, watched for the sun. 

" Tell me," she said, at tendance on the flame, 
'^What ritual had Diana? and I forget. 



THE FERNS 43 

Praying for what did people pray to her, 

Diana ? " " Maidens for their maidenhood/' 

I thought, " and brides for children." " Brides ! " 

she said. 
Then lightly, " Come not near, and close your eyes. 
Unshoe your fancy, it is holy ground ! 
Fire, take my brake, and speed my prayer in flame. 
Avoid," she cried, " these orisons occult. 
And rash foot in a cloister, chastely tread ! 
Smoke, old and gold, your green at best was tame. 
Do I not play it daintily ? " she cried, 
" Are you devoutly admiring voice and pose ? 
And burn, my fern, a game and not a game." 

Clear was her voice, and near, and very far. 
Mingled with vaulted harping of the stream ; 
She kneeled before the rock ; round her bare head 
The death of the fern wove aureoles toward the sun 
Of floating violet ; on her face the flame 
Blushed like a passion ; and to look on her 
Pleasure was like a splendid pain in me. 



IV 



HEIGHO, ARCADY 47 



Heigho, Arcady 

TT has no bounds of time or place, 

•^ Heigho, Arcady ! 

It is a light of transient grace 

That shines on field and tree. 

'T is Phyllis pirouetting sweet ! 

(Heigho, dancing bosom !) 

I think the primrose from her feet 

Breaks to fragrant blossom. 

Unto her whistled tune she trips ; 

(Heigho, follow after ! ) 

I think the goldfinch from her lips 

Breaks to winged laughter. 

The hour stands still at heaven's height, 

Heigho, Arcady ! 

The light that never was, the light 

It is on earth and me. 



48 THE SEA-GULL INLAND 



The Sea-gull Inland 

/^^OLD inland hills and misty corn, 
^^ What thunder round your feet was born, 
What foam of breakers on the sand 
Glimmered, a hundred leagues inland ? 

Pale shallows where the swallows dipped, 
What was the point of white that slipped, 
A beating twinkle of silver, blown 
By hill and phantom meadow alone ? 

Muskingum, hushed for rain all day. 
My melancholy river gray, 
I saw the flashing breakers rolled 
Under the sunset, gold on gold. 

Oh, for the full orchestral tone 

And the ocean's organ-thunder blown ! 

Alas, the sparrow tinkling dim 

By shallows where the swallows skim. 

Cold ghostly hills and inland corn, 
Muskingum banks, remote, forlorn, 
A long-winged spirit beat from me 
A hundred leagues away to sea. 



LULLABY 49 



Lullaby 



A T sunset our white butterflies 
■^ ^ Vanish and fold and creep, 
Where now the golden daylight dies, 
Out in the field to sleep ; 
Among the morning-glories furled 
They furl their drowsy wings, 
Forget the sun upon the world 
And what the sparrow sings. 
They will not know what dews may kiss, 
Nor what stars vigil keep ; 
Fold up, white wing, and be like this, 
All in the twilight deep ; 
With everything that pretty is. 
My little lady, sleep. 



50 SWEET ADVENTURE 



Sweet Adventure 

OWEET adventure, call no more, 
^^ Oh, let us dream upon the shore ! 
Dream, and watch the boats come by 
Up bluer water than the sky. 
Dazzling as lilies on the blue, 
Laden with love, a maiden crew 
That whistle and sing an old romance 
Till the idle oars seem like a dance. 
And we would follow and woo ; 
'T is young love ferries heaven o'er, 
But let us dream upon the shore. 
Call no more. 

Call no more, O sweet and wild 

Adventure ! lest at length beguiled 

We tempt the oars, we die away 

Across the mirrored day. 

Float and waver into the dark 

Of the hill-reflection, whither — hark. 

How faint and far the osprey shrills, 

Wheeling over the farther hills 

And over the woodmere he can see. 

Where the orchid blooms, and we would be! 



SWEET ADVENTURE 51 

Lure us not from the dreaming shore, 
Dear adventure, call no more. 
Call no more ! 



52 THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 

The Way to Fairyland 

"X/'OU need not travel to a star; 

-^ The way is easy, and not far, 

An hour's walk, a mile from town. 



The slow-winged herons lead you down 
The lonely river-path ; for sign 
Are arrowhead-flowers frail and fine 
Skirting the water ; then the wood 
Opens ; . . . but only by the blood 
Thrilling, and by the poignant start 
As when first love caught up your heart. 
You know you see it face to face. 

The greenwood bowers a sunny space 
For song-sparrow tinkling ; and below, 
July's green lap is full of snow. 
With drifted rustic white-and-pink 
Of bouncing-bet from brink to brink ; 
And the haunted air resounds between 
With humming-birds, obscure and keen. 
Like burnt-out stars that dart and float 
With but a last fire at the throat. — 



THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 53 

You saw just common summer flowers ? 
Heard but a hum that drowsed the hours ? 
Your blood leaped not, nor shook your heart ? 
Ah, well ; I know no other chart. 
The path is for your feet more far 
Than that which fails toward a star. 



54 THE SUMMER SEEMED IMMORTAL 



The Summer Seemed Immortal 

^T^HE summer seemed immortal in its prime 
"*" Upon the high hill-meadow, scenting air 
With its white frost of boneset, and its rare 
Incense of primrose in a golden clime ; 
And through the silence of the cricket-chime 
The dove was like intoning memories 
In pregnant silence and Arcadian ease 
Deep in a mellow interim of time. 
But in the wood I felt a breath of change 
Through all that lotus-eating languor blow ; 
I heard a gossiped word from oak to oak 
Sound, like the skirts of passing summer ; and lo, 
Wandering Odysseus in my veins awoke. 
The seasons stepped, and all the world was strange. 



NOT ONLY THROUGH OLD LEGEND 55 



Not Only Through Old Legend 

"XTOT only through old legend's royal guise, 
-*" ^ Nor in the quest that sought the fleece, the 

grail, 
The sudden god looks forth to turn men pale 
With wonder looking out of beauty's eyes. 
At times a light of great enchantment lies 
On my plain fields ; in woods as through a veil 
Gleams the unknown romance ; and the lost tale 
Informs familiar rivers with surprise. 
Once, when upon the utmost hills the sun 
An hour unmoving hung, and, all song dead, 
Grew lovelier, sterner, deepening into red, 
Harrow of stars, shaping the arrow-blade, 
I saw the wild-geese go. Summer was done. 
The winged longing left me half afraid. 



56 BIRDS OF PASSAGE 



Birds of Passage 

TN the gray of earliest dawn, 

■^ When the night was not yet gone, 

But the street-lamps lonely and strange 

Burned in a still sea-change, 

Over the ghostly, ghostly street 

I heard the voices passing sweet, — 

Follow away ! 

Wings of the summer forth. 
And the silent throats of the north 
Southward, southward away 
Peopling the ghostly gray. 
Over the city's sleep they ran. 
The innumerable caravan, — 
Follow away ! 

Over our drowsy heads. 

Death-beds and bridal-beds. 

Over our human hush. 

Swallow and sparrow and thrush, 

Over our life, if life be sleep, 

Hear my voyagers laugh and weep, — 

Oh, follow, follow ! 



PALINODE OF THE ROBINS 57 



Palinode of the Robins 

T3 EST is the gift of autumn, a goodly gift is rest ; 
■^^ Sweet is song, but after song silence is the 

best ; 
And robins, need you waken now the old unrest of 

song ? 
I listen but the moment ; for the silence will be long. 

Oh, doubtful, spiritual, echo of spring, in air or in 

my breast. 
The robins caroling underbreath the last last song 

and best ! 
Is this the ambrosial bower of green that to the lyric 

fire 
Resounded, overmastered by the myriad flutes of 

desire ? 

Now in the autumnal thicket the , fading memories 

cling, 
Phantom of frolic, whisper of April, listen, the robins 

sing. 
Catch the rain and ruin of gold in a falling last 

half-song. 
My russet breasts of memory ! for the silence will 

be long. 



5 8 PALINODE OF THE ROBINS 

Sing, for the forward eyes of April looked to this at 

last ; 
Hush, for a backward face is autumn, and her heart 

the past ; 
Hush, for the leaves are weeping, hush, breathless 

beautiful fire. 
And hush not yet, oh, hush not yet, April, heart's 

desire ! 



BUTTERFLY OUT TO SEA 59 

When the Butterfly Puts Out 

to Sea 

"|V yrONARCH, my wine-winged butterfly, 
"^ And will you too put out from shore ? 
The thrush's harp is turned a sigh ; 
No more the swallows cross the sky, 
And kiss the lake no more ; 
They follow summer ; far and far 
They know the illimitable blue ; 
The long nights hear them piping through ; 
But can a moth achieve a star ? 
But is your quest for heaven too. 
Out on the deep with me ? 
Is yours the passion to endure 
The homeless waste ? 'T is autumn sure, 
When the butterfly puts out to sea ! 

Monarch, who wears the robin's breast, 
Light wing of flower-return so brief, 
I thought the buxom-blowing west 
Had floated farther than the rest 
The richest autumn leaf; 
I looked to see it drop ; 't was you. 



6o BUTTERFLY OUT TO SEA 

A handbreadth over death, whose shape 
Is that fair mock and frolic ape 
Beneath you in the mirrored blue, 
From purpling peak and golden cape 
A lakeward mile with me, 
'T is you ! And is your heart so great ? 
I know the truth of change and fate. 
When the butterfly puts out to sea ! 

Monarch, the wood is of your hue, 

Wine-dark, as if to stay your flight ; 

There yet are asters waiting you ; 

But here is vault on vault of blue 

Infinity alight. 

Return ! — where would you go ? — return ! 

Where are you gone, and gone at last ? 

And can I follow into the vast. 

On such a wing to bicker and burn, 

I too put forth and leave the past 

Alone ? Ah me, ah me, 

'T is time to do away with time, — 

How far the shore ! how faint the chime ! — 

When the butterfly puts out to sea ! 



THE ASTERS 6i 



The Asters 

'T^HE river has not changed with year on year. 
■^ I know the place ; once I found asters here. 
The river is the same, but I am strange ; 
For all the seasons touching me with change 
Withdraw the boy that knew this path so well, 
The lost boy, wild of heart as Ariel, 
Who thought the burnt-out lamps of wild sunflowers 
The last should light the tired dislustred hours. 
When all the dull green looked at him, and met 
His gaze with Argus-eyes of rich regret, 
Gold-irised, fringed with tender violet. . . . 

Oblivion's feet had lost the path in briers ; 
And brooding thus on ghosts of dead desires, 
I stooped and crept a difficult passage through. 
Then, there they were ; the mourning blue on blue 
Of my old asters bloomed and gloomed again, 
And each lost joy, and each forgotten pain. 
A hand was on that twilight tapestry. 
And out he stepped ; I knew him, it was he. 
The wild-heart boy with my face looked at me. 

And I with a man's pity looked on him ; 
And it was he that wavered and grew dim, 



62 THE ASTERS 

For naught he seemed to me. I had met death 
Unmasked at noon ; he thought it but a breath. 
I had known love, I knew a woman's heart, 
Earth's inmost purple, and to him but art 
Of aster-eyes to draw him like a bee. 
Upon my smile he faded wistfully. 
Only the regal asters looked at me. 



THE POSING OF VIVETTE 65 



The Posing of Vivette 

VI VETTE 

YOU 'VE finished with my face ? And I can 
talk. 
'T will take an hour to mend my murdered flounce ; 
Rude were the blond wild-roses ; I hate to sew. 
Why do you paint me in those weary woods ? 
What is this — mm — who is it that I am ? 
Bacchante, yes ; but tell me what she was — 
Saint Someone's deadly sin ? 

THE PAINTER 

It means a girl 
Who served a Greek god. 

VIVETTE 

Oh, that 's what I am. 
I wondered if this airy creature waltzed 
In a smile, a garland, and a leopard-skin 
That does n't fit ; 't is too decollete. 
But if she served a god — Why, here 's a nun, 
A convent, with a Turkish rug for cowl. 

THE PAINTER 

He was a poet's god of wine, my dear. 



66 THE POSING OF VIVETTE 

VI V E TTE 

Ah then, we dance a saraband to church, 

Flap all our polka dots, take ofF our wreaths 

Like theatre-hats, and most demurely drink 

Champagne. — I wish you 'd hurry ; this my tree 

Is tired, my foot 's asleep, and ants 

Explore my back. Just let me shudder, please ! 

THE PAINTER 

It won't be long. 

VIVETTE 

" How rude, to come in the nude " 
^She hums a little tune^ then is still. 

THE PAINTER 

Vivette J Don't wink, don't breathe ! 



lacchus ! 



VIVETTE 

lo, io, 

THE PAINTER 

Yes, the wine-god — But, Vivette ! 

VIVETTE 

'T is day, Silenus. We have overslept. 
Daughters of Minyas, the bats no more 
Wing through the pass of Oak-heads darkly seen. 



THE POSING OF VIVETTE 67 

Where are our Thyads pale in purple hair, 
Leaf-ears and slim-shanks with the mellow nymphs, 
The satyrs, and the Lydian Bassarids ? 

THE PAINTER 

Well, what the devil — 

VIVETTE 

And I the last to sleep ! 
Shall I be sluggard, I of the dragon's teeth ? 
For I sleep lightest ; and the fern yet holds 
The imprint of their bodies here beside 
The stream of Dirce ; all the languid limbs 
Up and away, and the revel leaving me 
To wake alone beneath the roofless pines ! 
It chills me with the exiled memories : 
How even to our quiet came the news 
That Thebes was taken by an unarmed boy ; 
How on the middle of a drowsy noon 
The slow embroidery spurned my needle-point, 
A thing beyond belief; green grew the web, 
The threads were changed to tendrils of the vine, 
And Thisbe's cloak became a cluster of grapes ; 
I heard the flutes and drums, I breathed the scent, 
And in a high possession out away 
Ran, with the naked prudes of half the street. 



68 , THE POSING OF VIVETTE 

THE PAINTER 

Good Lord, good Lord ! 

V I V E T T E 

But late and younger, I, 
More reverent to wave the fennel-rod 
Wherein Prometheus stole the fire from heaven, 
Novi^ dedicate, the Evian taper mine 
I take more awe to handle. No such excess 
Withers my smilax as our Corybants 
Affect. They blame me : so doth not the god. 
The midwife lightning of his birth they take 
For comrade ; Semele ere the thunder, L 
They love the horns ; but I the grace between, 
As Castaly between Parnassus' horns. 
Where milk and honey flowed the rock, I love. 
A virgin's head is his whene'er he stands 
Without the horns, the wine-red beautiful god ! 
Oh, in fresh dells the clear-voiced nightingale. 
True to the wine-dark ivy evermore. 
And the god's inviolate bower, pipes the way ; 
There would I follow on the gleaming heel. 
Where Orpheus in old time striking the lyre — 
Orpheus, a name we shun, I know not why — 
Drew all the grove together. Swift as doves 
We run, nor I the slowest ; but they wake 
Too oft the hounds of Lyssa with their feet. 



THE POSING OF VIVETTE 69 

And yet I know not ; if one came to spy, 
Crying, Can brass on brass avail so much ? 
Can women's voices or rich mummeries 
Replace the young men's helmets with green 

leaves ? — 
If such came spying — well, wrath might snatch 

my soul, 
A green leaf I ; let no man blame the gods. 
Only of late I learned the jocund wands 
Are weapons. Surely you, Silenus, know 
The pine-cone on the thyrsus hides a spear ? 

THE P AI NTE R 

So I must be the goat-hoofs. Heaven help ! 
Oh, yes, I know ! 

VIVE TTE 

The tiger, teased too far 
Last night, — she lolled an insolence of grace 
Along his cruel beauty, black and gold 
And sumptuous white, — nipped Ariadne's hand ; 
She shrieked; the thyrsus glittered, pinned the 

brute 
By one gaunt velvet flank unto the moss. 
Where he writhed roaring till the god released 
And healed him. — Dionysus ! we must stir; 
The ivy's spell begins to work in me. 
Oh, for the chanting dithyramb, to wake 



70 THE POSING OF VIVETTE 

The rain of pattering satyr-hoofs, and thrill 
The purple ankles of the Hyades, 
Till every grape-kissed girl-foot tap in tune. 
And every nymph in Naxos float her hair ! 
O Bacchus, Bromius, Fire-born, Born-again, 
Evoe, elelaus, elelaus ! 

l^^s she begins to dance he touches her arm, 

THE PAINTER 

Vivette — 

VIVETTE 

A man — here at the Mysteries — 
Agave's fingers will drip red again. 
Maenads ! maenads ! 

\She leaps at him. 

THE PAINTER 

You wild-cat ! You — Vivette ! 

\She falls in his grasp, 

VIVETTE 

Hullo, what 's happened ? Oh, you hurt my wrists ! 
What have I done — I fainted ? 

THE PAINTER 

Died, I think. 



THE POSING OF VIVETTE 71 

VIVETTE 

Your face is bleeding — aie! 

THE PAINTER 

I know, I know. 
Your wild-rose caught me when I ran to help. 

VIVETTE 

We 're brilliant. Where 's my shameful leopard- 
skin ? 
Little Bacchantes ! never make a scene 
Without a chaperone; besides, it crumples 
Your gorgeous lack of raiment. 

THE PAINTER 

After this 
I '11 paint you pouring tea. Come, child, we '11 go. 

VIVETTE 

Oh, I 'm all right. But that 's a pallid drink. 
Nothing but brooks in these provincial woods ? 
Well, get me a cup while I put up my hair. 
My antique hair. Vivette 's herself again. 



VI 



ARCADES AMBO 75 



Arcades Ambo 

"CpROM our long brooding, downward from the 
-^ steep 

Of heaven, on earth grown like a heartbreak dear, 
Valley and peak, shower and sun, and clear 
Souls of the thrushes come up from the deep, 
" I must be foolish," out she burst, " to keep 
Myself in so much beauty mastering me - — ■ 
Hoyden for peril of virginity " — 
Indeed her eyes were wet — " or wildly weep ! " 
Forthwith she sang, she danced ; over the brink 
Cast stones to hearken for the fall in vain ; 
Above the peak's old mirrors of clear rain 
Remaining to make mouths who stooped to drink ; 
Crushed leaves of sassafras, and gave to smell 
The lemon-fragrant hands that cuffed me well ! 



76 BACCARE FRONTEM CINGITE 



Baccare Frontem Cingite 

/^^NLY by the slow shadow along the canoe 
^^ Of leaves that hung •our brows with wreath 

on wreath, 
Or the long sigh of lily-pads beneath, 
By these alone our creeping pace we knew ; 
And under the water-maple's arch we drew 
So silently, that near and unafraid, 
Wandering loves ! the rich mute waxwings stayed. 
And she bent back to look as we passed through. 
The overhanging foliage filled the boat. 
Rustling and fresh and cool to blind our eyes. 
Suddenly, slowly, curtaining side by side 
A boy's head bent to knee, a girl's white throat 
Laid back ; and then the sun was like surprise. 
" I did ! " I said ; and " You did not ! " she cried. 



MAGNO NUNC ORE SONANDUM 77 



Magno nunc Ore Sonandum 

How all her moods, comrade, coquette, and 
child. 
Fell from her ! 'T was the hermit-thrush awake ; 
And the wood dared not to breathe, the leaning lake 
Crowded with eyes the hemlocks twilight-aisled ; 
And tears unshed we gave, and hopes unsmiled. 
What blooming like a birth to golden pain 
Wept to a purpler-lighted close, again, 
Till either knew the other's heart how wild. 
Yet love might not have been ; but on her breast 
The white pyrola I had gathered her. 
White bells whose sound is fragrance, took unrest. 
Stillest of flowers, now nodded stir on stir 
Trembling to her quick heart. She tore them free. 
" My wild flowers scorned ! " I said, and " Trai- 
tors ! " she. 



78 O DEA CERTE 



O Dea Certe 

IV yriDWAY the moonlight, while the idle oar 
•^^-*- Trailed in the mirrored stars, we paused to 

take 
What hesitating lingered along the lake. 
Gay mandolins, and gayer than of yore ; 
And ever across the hanging dusks of shore 
Star-distant rosy lightnings filleted 
With farthest flame her sweet and shadowy head. 
And while my heart still fainted were no more. 
Young love came over the water newly souled 
In virgin music pleading with desire ; 
Young love one dearest dark head aureoled 
Moment by moment with a silent fire ; 
O love, young love ! he hung our death and birth 
In the hollow of heaven yet ringed with the shadow 

of earth ! 



SI CREDERE DIGNUM EST 79 



Si Credere Dignum est 

TF in the disenchantment of long years 
-^ This earth become unparadised for me, 
Come hither, young romance, Thalian glee. 
Hither, and laugh away the shade that nears ; 
If ever life become unto my ears 
Truth's passing-bells abroad on land and sea 
And beauty's tolled farewells, come, memory, 
Hither, and purge me of the taste of tears. 
It is my lady wading in the brook. 
Distract of beauty, posed on flustered green, 
An elf, a child, a woman, all in one ; 
O flattered shallows, jocund, hyaline ! 
O damask feet coquetting with the sun ! 
Laughter-and-love ! who could be sad to look? 



8o TIBI DESERIT HESPERUS 



Tibi Deserit Hesperus 

THIRST night without good-night, grown dark 

-*" and shy, 

Grown strange and hushed, on us at last alone, 

It is our night, when life too instant grown 

Dares not a glance or whisper lest it die ; 

Only, the moon hung in the mirrored sky. 

The slim white crescent trembling into still, 

Dear, it is you ; and from the shadowy hill 

There comes a line of light, the wind — and I ! 

Oh, bold faint fires that hesitate to woo. 

And sparkle after sparkle adown the deep 

Drop, till they touch and clasp, they melt and break 

Into the water-moon ! — And where are you ? 

A silver light upon the midnight lake, 

A breath of wind that sighs itself to sleep. 



VETERES INEUNT PROSCENIA 8i 



Veteres Ineunt Proscaenia 

A H once again upon the rock to lie 
-^ ^ Under the water-maple, half awake, 
Shut in from wind and sun, mountain and lake. 
Save for a space of dimpling under-sky. 
With you beside me in the boat hard by. 
You with your book of verse beneath the bough. 
Up whose green curtains, and across your brow, 
Ripples of water-fire forever die ; 
And ever while the squirrel, hidden above, 
From leafage burdened yet with yesterday 
Shakes down light rains on us, reading to me. 
To hear your voice seem near and far away, 
Reading of her who to the sacred grove 
Led the blind wanderer, Antigone. 



82 FLORIBUS AUSTRUM 



Floribus Austrum 

OUDDENLY hushed in the blue immortal 
^^ weather, 

Like a sea at its highest heave and farthest run, 
How are the mountains Eden asleep in the sun, 
When the roar is on us, and only our arms for 

tether. 
On us in the rose-danced laurel and the topmost 

heather. 
The wind and the wind high over a world at rest. 
The wind in your mad skirts binding us breast to 

breast. 
Blinding the vast with your hair as we cling to- 
gether ! 
Close in my arms ! If now at the wind's wild prime, 
If we should be caught on the wind's wild wildest 

sweep. 
Snatched and whirled and blown as light as a feather. 
Up and away from our bride-bloomed summit of 

time. 
Out and afar where the peaks of eternity sleep. 
We may vanish at least and fall at the last together. 



MAIORESQUE CADUNT UMBRAE 83 



Maioresque Cadunt Umbrae 

T IGHT heart or heavy, evil mind or fair, 
^^^ Or by his will or not, who to the deep 
Calls, he has answer ; well for them from sleep 
Who the wild echo wake and well may dare ; 
Startled were we who singing unaware 
Heard our own twilight voices answered, heard 
What seemed a living soul, a human word. 
And speech of men or ghosts on hollow air. 
The owl. Across the dusking valleys yet 
The peaks were sunset-purpled, yet the sun 
Glittered, and yet our shadows, clasped, and one, 
Hung in a breathless leafage richly alight 
To hear with us our ballad-laughter set 
Deep calling unto deep and height to height. 



84 ULTIMA THULE 



Ultima Thule 

'^ I ^ WAS up the mountain's wildest ; and I knew 
-^ Then, that our lives could shape no memory 
More terrible and lovely ; now, I see 
Not otherwise we journey this life through ; 
The pine, although your touch was light as dew, 
The great pine trembled and swayed, and down old 

gloom 
Cracked and crashed and thundered a far-heard 

doom. 
And there alone, one white arm up, were you. 
It looked another century to endure 
With its dark brothers hung aloft the land ; 
Lo now, it fell upon the touch of love ; 
Under your upcast unsupported hand 
A league of ruin. I thought the past secure ; 
Nor dreamed how light its wreck looks from above. 



DIS ALITER VISUM 85 



Dis Aliter Visum 

/^NCE more where up the dark of Paradise 
^-^ The lake no farther lights, where first we 

loved, 
Though now that summer's flower is twice removed, 
And mute the thrush that in us never dies, 
Once more we linger, smiling fond and wise. 
Aware of our old presence ghostly dim. 
When boy to girl was wonder, she to him 
Delicious and intolerable eyes. 
Young lovers, boy and maiden half unknown. 
Whose hearts are one but tremble yet apart. 
Happier we, who are not here alone. — 
Blush, rosy virgin ! veil, young eyes and sweet ! 
What know you of how a heart within a heart. 
Yourself and not yourself, may flutter and beat ? 



VII 



LLefC. 



BREATH ON THE OAT 89 



Breath on the Oat 

I r^REE are the Muses, and where freedom is 
•*■ They follow, as the thrushes follow spring, 
Leaving the old lands songless there behind; 
Parnassus disenchanted suns its woods. 
Empty of every nymph ; wide have they flown ; 
And now on new sierras think to set 
Their wandering court, and thrill the world anew, 
Where the Republic babbling waits its speech ; 
For but the prelude of its mighty song 
As yet has sounded. Therefore, would I woo 
Apollo to the land I love, 't is vain ; 
Unknown he spies on us ; and if my verse 
Ring not the empyrean round and round, 
'T is that the feeble oat is few of stops. 
The noble theme awaits the nobler bard. 
Then how all air will quire to it, and all 
The great dead listen, America ! — For lo, 
Diana of the nations hath she lived 
Remote, and hoarding her own happiness 
In her own land, the land that seemed her first 
An exile, where her bark was cast away. 
Till maiden grew the backward-hearted child, 
And on that sea whose waves were memories 



90 BREATH ON THE OAT 

Turned her young shoulder, looked with steadfast 

eyes 
Upon her wilderness, her woods, her streams ; 
Inland she ran, and gathering virgin joy 
Followed her shafts afar from humankind. 
And if sometimes her isolation drooped 
And yearning woke in her, she put it forth 
With a high boast and with a sick disdain ; 
Actaeons fleeing, into antlers branched 
The floating tresses of her fancy, and far 
Her arrows smote them with a bleeding laugh. 

vain and virgin, O the fool of love ! 
Now children not her own are at her knee. 
For stricken by her path lay one that vexed 
Her maiden calm ; she reached a petulant hand ; 
And the old nations drew sharp breath and looked. 
The two-edged sword, how came it in her hand ? 
The sword that slays the holder if he withhold, 
That none can take, or having taken drop. 

The sword is in thy hand, America ! 

The wrath of God, that fillets thee with lightnings, 

America ! Strike then ; the sword departs. 

Ah God, once more may men crown drowsy days 

With glorious death, upholding a great cause ! 

1 deemed it fable ; not of them am I. 

Yet if they loved thee on the loud May-day 
Who with unexultant thunder wreathed the flag. 



BREATH ON THE OAT 91 

With thunder and with victory, if they 
Who on the third most famous of our Fourths 
Along the seaboard mountains swept, a storm 
Unleashed, whose tread spurned not the wrecks of 

Spain, 
If these thy sons have loved thee, and have set 
Santiago and Manila like new stars 
Crowding thy field of blue, new terror perched 
Like eagles on thy banners, oh, not less 
I love thee, who but prattle in the prime 
Of birds of passage over river and wood 
Thine also, piping little charms to lure, 
Uncaptured and unflying, the wings of song. 

MDCCCXCVIII. 



Electrotyped and printed by H. 0. Houghton 6r* Co. 
Cambridge t Mass.i U. S. A. 



SEP 4 1903 



